


everything's downhill from here

by verity



Series: tween wolf [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Epilepsy, Friendship, Gen, Learning to Drive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 10:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She totally bought it," Erica says, handing the cooler to Stiles before she climbs into the Jeep, clutching the door frame to hoist herself up into the high seat. "We can eat after, too, if you want."</p><p>Stiles sits the cooler in the back. "I'm down. Team not actually lying to parents all the way." </p><p>"Rah rah," Erica says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything's downhill from here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blue_rocket_frost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_rocket_frost/gifts).



"A picnic?" her mom says dubiously. Erica tracks her approach in the mirror, keeps twisting her own unruly hair into a braid. She's wearing ratty jeans, worn thin and white between her thighs, and an old t-shirt, gray flowers spilling onto a lavender background, the glossy print faded and cracked. "Are you sure this isn't a date?"

"No, Mom, can you just—" Erica slides the brown elastic over the end of her braid, twists it around until it's secure. "I'd know," she says. "If it was a date. I'd know."

Mom pats her on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby. He seems like a nice boy. He's a good friend to you."

It would be easier for Erica to lie to her mom, but that comes too close to lying to herself, and that would be worse. Stiles _is_ a good friend. He's her only friend aside from Boyd, who's gone for the summer, and he's—her best friend. But she's not his best friend, and she's definitely not his girlfriend, and this is definitely, definitely not a date.

"Oh, I think that's his car," her mom says, turning her head toward the front door. "You go on, I packed you two a good lunch. Go get 'im."

—

"She totally bought it," Erica says, handing the cooler to Stiles before she climbs into the Jeep, clutching the door frame to hoist herself up into the high seat. "We can eat after, too, if you want."

Stiles sits the cooler in the back. "I'm down. Team not actually lying to parents all the way."

"Rah rah," Erica says.

She watches closely as Stiles puts the Jeep in gear, shifting from first to second with an aggressive shove. "Second sticks, third slides," he reminds her. "You had trouble with second last time and you completely missed third."

Erica rolls her eyes. "I only got to third _once_."

"Excuses, excuses," Stiles says.

—

They drive forty minutes to the next county over, where they won't have to worry about Stiles's dad and his deputies being all over them. Last time Stiles took her up into the mountains and made her practice starting on an incline. "It's what my dad made me do," he said. "I know it's hard, okay? But then everything's downhill from here."

"No, it's really not," Erica said through gritted teeth.

Today, they pull into the parking lot of an abandoned big box store. Stiles parks in the back and tosses her the keys. "Switch," he says, opening his door. "Don't look."

Erica's in the driver's seat, keys in the ignition, before Stiles climbs back into the Jeep next to her. He thinks he's so subtle, but his eyelids are glossy with what looks like vaseline right up to the brow. "What are we doing today? Parking?"

Stiles shrugs. "Just driving around. We can work on parking if you want, I guess. This is just to get you used to handling her before we take her on the road."

"Yeah, no, not ready for that," she says.

After Erica does a few loops around the lot, she notices how tense her shoulders are, and deepens her breathing, tries to relax. She has a permit—one she forged signatures and lied about medical conditions to get—so the only problem they'll run into if they get pulled over is the fact that while Stiles is a licensed driver, he's far from 21. This is a normal thing that normal teenagers do.

She gets the shift from first to second down, pushing hard on enough on the stick that she's afraid she'll break something before it grudgingly gives. "Good job," Stiles says, patting her shoulder. A while later, he says, "Okay, it's been an hour, dude. Break time. Let's eat."

He grabs a packet of wipes out of the back before they switch seats.

—

Erica's had a crush on Stiles for years, since the time he helped her through a seizure in eight grade, holding her in the music portable while Mrs. Perez called for the nurse. He's been able to warn her about her seizures for almost as long.

Not all the time, but every time, he's right. Mostly Stiles saves his weird foresight for stuff like field trips, class presentations, chorus concerts: the places where Erica's most freaked out about embarrassing herself, crumpling and convulsing, control of her body wrested from her. Their friendship has made her grow bold, enough to ask him this favor: _I want you to teach me to drive_.

Her doctor said that Erica would probably never be able to drive. Well, she's going to prove him wrong.

—

Mom packed them duck for lunch, all grease and fat, and a salad heavy with nuts and fresh vegetables. Erica's been on a long string of medications over the years and none of them have worked, so they're trying out a ketogenic diet, lots of fat and no carbs. Stiles eats it all without complaint, even though he could have brought a sandwich instead. "Vegetables are good for you," he says through a mouthful of spinach when she asks. "If I'm making my dad eat this stuff, it's not going to kill me."

Stiles finishes before her, and he plays with the leftover napkins, starts folding them into floppy, reluctant cranes. He's jittery sometimes, easily bored, but he seems different now, uneasy. "You okay?" Erica says.

"Yeah, just…" Dropping a half-folded crane on the blanket under them, he lies down, pillows his head on folded arms. "Weird night. I kind of… freaked out. Dropped a few plates. You know how that goes."

She does.

"You want to play frisbee for a while before we go back?" Stiles says.

"Sure," Erica says, gathering up her Tupperware. "Sounds good to me."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr.
> 
> My driving experience is minimal, but yes, this IS how I was taught to drive stick.


End file.
